Destiny’s Dominion

Chapter Thirty Three: A Slow Boat to Pisse
Massilia was a very busy port town. What with goods being brought in from all over the empire, and the local goods being despatched out as well, the city supported a thriving population that was crammed into it's narrow, dirty streets. Being a bustling place people had little time to stroll at a leisurely pace .. there was work to be done, contracts to be arranged, people to see and money to be made.

Iolaus and Toris had made good time in getting from Lugdunum to Massilia. They maintained their disguises, keeping their beards and making sure that their hair was consistently coloured. No one gave them a second look. They were nothing like the pair of men being diligently searched for by the legionaries. Once they had reached Massilia, they had decided to take their horses to a trader. They were going to need money for a ship's passage and their funds were not plentiful, besides which they had no further use for the animals.

"How good are you at trading?" the small man asked Toris as they walked through the streets.

Toris shrugged., "As good as the next man, I suppose," he answered.

"Well then," smiled Iolaus happily, "you better leave me to do this. I'm a pretty fair hand at it and we're going to need as much as we can get for these two animals of ours."

Toris glanced over his shoulder at his mud flecked sweaty horse, "I'd suggest that we clean them up a bit before we try to sell them. We'll get more if they don't look like they've spent almost a moon of hard road travelling."

His smaller companion, looked back at his own gelding and stopped momentarily to pat the beasts neck, "You're right. A good wash down and some time spent with a curry comb should increase their value by as much as thirty dinars. He looked over at Toris with a smile, "Hey, I thought Amphipolis was sheep country, since when do sheep herders know anything about horse trading?"

"We breed sheep," grinned Toris dryly, "We don't advocate cultivating the brains of them ... we leave that to the city boys of Corinth."

"Ha, ha! Very funny," responded Iolaus with good humour, "Have you got any idea just how much like your sister you are?"

"What did you expect?" retorted Toris, pulling his horse along at a walk as he realized that they were attracting attention standing still in the busy street, "Who do you think taught her all she knows?"

That had the smaller man spluttering and choking as he tried to find a suitable reply to the offhand remark. Finally he managed, "Oh, I just can't wait to tell her that one," he smirked as he caught up to Toris, "It's going to be great to see her reaction to that," he laughed.

More soberly Toris added quietly, "I'll just be happy to see her. Safe, well and away ... from where she is," he added cautiously.

Iolaus nodded his approval of the sentiment and the careful wording of it. It seemed, at last, that Toris was beginning to guard his tongue and passions. It would help keep them out of trouble if they didn't have to worry every moment about what someone might overhear them say.

They found their way to a stable and paid the owner a couple of dinar's for the use of his facilities and another five for some oats for their tired horses. They then spent the next two candlemarks cleaning up the animals, and curry combing them until their coats shone in the warmth of the early afternoon sun.

"That's about as good as we're going to get them," grinned Iolaus after he dunked his head in the horse trough to wash off the sweat he had worked up and cool himself down. He shook his long curls to get rid of some of the excess water, before pulling his patchwork vest back on, "We'd better go and find ourselves a horse trader, so we can set about getting a passage to Rome."

"The stableman says that there's a dealer about four blocks over. He also said that he's a fair man, not like some of the others in the city," Toris told him, "I've sold the stableman, here, the tack. He said it looked fair quality and he needed some for clients who want to hire his horses. He gave me sixty dinars, which is pretty fair for their condition and the fact that they're used goods."

"Well at least it's some towards our fare. Now if this trader's as good as you've been told, we should make enough from the horses and some to spare," grinned Iolaus. "What's the name of this trader?" he asked.

"Calumnus," answered Toris, "If you're ready, we might as well get over to him."

The pair led their mounts, using some old rope halters supplied by the friendly stable owner, and soon found Calumnus's place of trade. While the shorter man got down to the business of selling the animals, Toris cornered a young man and engaged him in some careful conversation.

"My friend and I have to catch a ship, and we were advised that you were a fair man to deal with," began Iolaus.

"Aye, well most people would say so," agreed Calumnus amicably.

"What's you top offer for these two horses," encouraged the short man, "they're good animals and you can see that they're in good condition."

"Weeell," answered the horse trader sucking his teeth as he looked at the pair of geldings, "I might go as high as seventy five dinars for the pair."

"You've got to be kidding!" returned Iolaus, happily getting into the routine of offer and counter-offer, "we got almost that for the tack we sold. Now seventy-five dinar's each would be a fair price."

"I don't know where you come from, son, but the horses there must be worth their weight in gold if you think that these two would get you anywhere near that amount," he stroked his chin consideringly, "I'll give you eighty-five dinar's for the pair."

"Calumnus," retorted Iolaus in well acted disbelief, "I was told that you were a fair man. You know that these two animals are worth at least one Hundred and forty dinars as a pair."

Toris half smiled to himself as listened with half an ear to the bargaining while he engaged the apprentice horse trader in conversation, "Have you been with Calumnus long?" he asked, more as a way of opening conversation than in any real interest.

"Only about a moon or so," grinned the lad, "My Da knows Calumnus and arranged an apprenticeship with him for me. Up until then I lived on a farm outside of the city. It's cleaner there, but not as much fun." He glanced over at his boss and Iolaus, "You're friend's pretty good at this."

Toris gave him a quick smile, "He enjoys a challenge," he agreed. "Being new in town, I bet you've seen some things that you didn't on the farm."

"Oh yeah. The city's so full of people and so busy, there's always things going on, and there's so many soldiers about. I kinda wish that Da had let me join the Legions, but he didn't want any son of his being a soldier, so I guess I'll just have to settle for being a horse trader," he scuffed at the dirt beneath his feet.

"I heard that there was a unit of the VIIth in the city," mentioned Toris casually, hoping that the youngster, with his interest in the military, would have noticed something.

"Too right," agreed the lad. "The seventh are about the best fighting force around. They're Caesar's own, and crack troops to boot. I saw that maniple come into town and they'd got three prisoners with them. They kept the public well away from them, so I guess that they must be pretty important, but they didn't look like any of those Gauls and one of them was just a girl ... though she must have been ill 'cause she was being carried on a litter."

Toris tried to suppress his concern as he heard about there being three prisoners, he calmed himself and asked as casually as he could manage, "What made you think that they weren't Gauls?"

"Oh, just that they looked too well dressed. One of them looked like he was quite a dandy. The other one was dressed in leathers, you know like maybe a fighter, but he didn't look like any fighter I've ever seen before," answered the youth.

- Damn! - swore Toris to himself. - It can't be anyone else. How in Tartarus did Brutus manage to get his hands on them, I thought that Autolycus was far too canny for that! -

He looked up as he heard Calumnus and Iolaus spit on their hands and clap them together to seal the deal. The shorter man went off with the horse trader to get the money they'd agreed upon, while the young apprentice led the horses away, leaving Toris to sit in gloomy silence.

"Hey did you see that," laughed Iolaus when he reappeared, clapping his companion on the shoulder, "Guess I haven't lost my touch. We got one hundred and twenty dinars for the pair, and what with your sixty and the loose money we've got kicking around, we should have enough dinars for the passage and some to spare for once we get to Rome." While he was talking, the short man suddenly became aware of Toris's moody silence, "What's the matter?" he questioned quietly.

His companion refused to answer until Calumbrus had returned with their money and bid them a cheery 'Good-day', then Toris stood and pulled Iolaus along in his wake, out of the traders yard, until he could find a quiet spot to speak where he was sure that they wouldn't be overheard. They settled for a dark, dank alleyway that smelled as if it doubled as a cess pit, where Iolaus's impatience finally got the better of him and he demanded, "What's up Toris?"

Xena's brother looked at him, his blue eyes showing worry and uncertainty, - A combination not usually found in his sister, - Iolaus noted as he waited for his companion to speak.

"That apprentice I was speaking to," Toris began and waited as his friend nodded his head for him to continue. "Well, from what he's just said, it looks like Brutus managed to pick up Autolycus and Joxer."

"Gods in Olympus!" swore Iolaus in frustration. "Is he sure ... I mean are you sure ... I mean, " he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "I don't know what I mean. Just tell me what the boy said."

Toris explained tersely how he'd questioned the lad, and just what he'd said about the two men prisoners he'd seen, as well as Gabrielle being carried on a litter, "Damn!" swore the smaller man emphatically, "It certainly sounds like a description of Autolycus, so the other one has to be Joxer." He banged his fist on the wall angrily, "I swear I'll rip Brutus' heart out if he's hurt Gabrielle in any way."

"We're not going to do a lot of good standing around here," put in Toris moodily. "We better get down to the docks and see if we can get a passage for Rome."

"You know, Autolycus and Joxer getting captured, might have been part of the thief's plans. You know, work at getting Gabrielle out from the inside. I might not always appreciate The King of Thieves, but I guess I should admit that I've never seen a lock he can't take," Iolaus muttered trying to convince himself that things would be alright.

"C'mon, Iolaus," encouraged Toris, feeling a need to be doing something, anything to work towards getting Xena free, "Let's get down to the docks and find a ship, huh?" he suggested, "We might be able to find out down there when Brutus and the others left."

Iolaus considered the suggestion for a moment, "You're right," he agreed, "I'd like to know just how far behind them we are, anyway."

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They boarded their ship that evening. It was a coasting vessel that would take many days to reach Rome, calling in at several ports along the way to off-load goods and passengers, and pick up more. It cost them forty dinars each for the passage, and it was the only ship they could afford.

Iolaus fumed quietly, while Toris was a deal more vocal about it, "We're already nine days behind them," he snarled as he paced around in the small cabin that he and his companion were sharing for the voyage, "And what about those rumours about that storm? They could have been caught in it and gone down without a trace."

The thought really worried the tall man. He knew that it would free Xena from the responsibility of worrying about the bard in the hands of Caesar, but he realised that his sister would be very badly effected by the loss of her closest friend. He wasn't too sure what, exactly, it would do to her, but he was sure it wouldn't be pretty. He kicked impotently at the bunk Iolaus was sitting on.

"Hey!" snapped his friend and, when Toris didn't respond he said again, "Hey?"

"What?" snarled Toris angrily.

"Just calm down, alright?" soothed Iolaus using his hands to emphasise his words, "There's nothing we can do until we get to Rome. We can't just go tearing ourselves up over what might happen, or might have happened. Right?" He stood and gripped Toris's right shoulder, "Right?" he repeated.

"Right," agreed his friend reluctantly, sinking onto the bunk that he'd claimed.

Iolaus sat down once more and forced himself into calmness. He was far more worried than he'd let on to Toris. His brief show of emotion in the alleyway had been quickly buried under the steely resolve to get them out of Massilia to a place where they could be of use to somebody. The trouble was, the whole time, a face framed by honey blonde hair, with green eyes and an impish smile, kept forcing it's way into his thoughts as he worried what might have been wrong with her and if she was still safe.

His concerns had been slightly mollified when he'd managed to get the information about when Brutus's ship had sailed. The person he'd questioned remembered seeing Gabrielle and the other two, standing on the docks surrounded by soldiers, "Pretty young thing," the old man had said, "Can't understand why a slave like her was surrounded by such a strong guard though. Had everyone talking for days, that did."

Well at least he knew she was well when she had left Massilia. He'd felt his heart lighten at that news. He wasn't sure how he'd let the young bard get so under his skin. - It's a stupid thought anyway, - he told himself, - I'm far too old for her. I'm just worried for her like an older brother would be. - He glanced at Toris who sat brooding opposite him, - Just like my friend over there, - he decided. - God's how are we ever going to endure this voyage? We're both as strung out as a harp and the time stuck on this tub is not going to make things better. -

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The trip, in all events, proved to be uneventful and totally mind numbing for Toris and Iolaus .. which wasn't perhaps a bad thing. The ship, grandiosely named the 'Queen of the Waves', was a pot bellied scow that moved hardly faster than the pace of a snail. Well, at least, that was the opinion of its unimpressed and sour tempered passengers.

They made calls at the ports of Forum Julii, Nicsea, Genoa and Luna, where the cargoes were unloaded and new merchandise shipped on board. The two men spent some time in each town, trying to get any information about Brutus's ship and the passengers it carried, but no one had heard anything. The little merchant ship, continued on it's slow way, in beautiful weather, with just the right windage for the craft to perform at it's best. It may have seemed like an eternal voyage to the two men, but they had, in fact, made reasonable time and on the tenth day, they stood at the deck rail of the ship, and looked into the harbour of Pisse, where they saw the battered hulk of a Roman Imperial Bireme.

"By Zeus's beard!" swore Iolaus, quietly, as his eyes lingered on badly damaged ship. The mast had gone, there were gouges along the oar ports where it appeared oars had sheared. Several timbers looked sprung and there was a constant stream of water be ejected from the ship as men bailed the craft out.

"Do you think that's the ship that they were on?" asked Toris, equally quietly.

Iolaus, considered, "We won't know until we can get ashore and ask some questions." He rubbed at his beard in an absent gesture that had become a habit, "But I'd be willing to stake our last dinar on that it is."

It seemed to take forever for the 'Queen of the Waves' to roll her unhurried way into the port of Pisse. The two friends had long since packed up their scant belongings, just in case they found what they were looking for here. They left their packs on their bunks, on the off chance that this wasn't the ship they had trailed, but if it proved to be the right one, they could grab their things at a moment's notice and take off.

"Where first?" asked Toris, as they clattered down the gangplank and onto the cobbled stone of the dock.

His shorter friend considered, "Let's just drift around the dockside taverns and see what information we can dredge up. We need to know if that's the right ship and, if it is, what happened to Gabrielle, Autolycus and Joxer." Toris nodded his approval and followed Iolaus down the street to begin the time consuming job of seeking out the information that they were looking for.

By the end of their perambulations, they had indeed confirmed that the Bireme was the one that Brutus had been on. The ship had, by all accounts, been very lucky to avoid being pounded into splinters on some rocks just to the south of the city. They'd been driven through the only gap in the reef and had beached in the cove beyond, the hulk had only been towed back to Pisse earlier in the day.

With everyone talking about the battered wreck of the ship, the two men were able to pick up plenty of information without really having to ask any questions. All they had to do was listen, as the hulk and it's erstwhile passengers were the main topic of conversation. Therefore, they soon learned that Brutus and his men had left the ship as soon as it had grounded, sending a sailor up the coast to alert the Pisse authorities about the wreck and demand reinforcements, in the name of Caesar, for the immediate scouring of the area to find three very dangerous prisoners that were being escorted back to Rome.

When Iolaus and his tall companion got back on board ship to collect their gear, it was all they could do not to pound each other's shoulders in glee at the thought of their friend's escape. However, it was not too long before a sobering thought took over.

"You know, we still don't know if they made it to shore," Iolaus pointed out, "I mean all we really know is that Brutus is searching for them. He may even have found them by now."

Toris thought carefully, "From what we've heard they jumped overboard to escape, when it looked like that the ship was going to hit the rocks. If the ship got swept through alright, it's a good bet that our friends did. Brutus obviously thinks so or he wouldn't have called out extra men to search."

Iolaus snorted in frustration, "Brutus is covering his ass. He's lost Caesar's second most valuable possession and if he doesn't turn up either a body or the live woman, Julius bloody Caesar is likely to crucify him ... literally!"

"How good a swimmer is Gabrielle?" asked Toris carefully.

The shorter man thought for a moment, "Good," he finally admitted, "she and Xena do quite a lot of swimming."

"Well then," tried Toris optimistically, "until we hear otherwise, we better work on the assumption that she and the others made it, and find them before Brutus and his soldiers do, or we'll be back to square one again."

Iolaus nodded his agreement, grabbed his gear and followed Toris off the ship, to start their search for their missing friends.

Chapter Thirty Four: To Crush Resistance
Left alone with her guards, Xena's anger began to build anew within her. There had been a time when no-one would have cared about her death. There had been a time when her life meant nothing to anyone. Now after three years of trying to atone for her past sins and crimes, she had become a liability to the few friends she had garnered. Verchinex forced into a pledge that removed him as a leader for his people, Gabrielle, Autolycus and Joxer's lives all threatened. Iolaus and Toris being hunted.

- How do I always seem to end up as a force for destruction, no matter what I try to do with my life? - she thought bitterly.

She jerked in her bonds in frustration. For all of her phenomenal strength, she knew that she had very little chance of breaking loose from her chains. Caesar had planned long and hard to make certain that once he had her in his power, she wasn't going to be able to slip her leash with any ease. She ceased her struggles as a baton slapped her across the back. Not a hard blow, just a reminder that she was being observed.

Straining her senses she could hear the final agreement being signed in the pavilion, and knew that her part in this particular scene had been executed to perfection. Caesar had removed Verchinex as a challenge, and that removal would last as long as she lived. On the one hand this told her that Caesar was not planning her death soon, which meant that Gabrielle's life (if not her comfort) was also assured. What was almost as important, however, was that even if the Warrior Princess should break free, Verchinex would still be tied by his oath. It was enough to make Xena seethe.

Forcing herself to relax, she wondered just how long it would be before they began the move back to Lugdunum and from there to Rome. She had no doubt that Caesar wanted to be back in the capital as soon as possible. He had business to attend to with Pompey and he obviously intended using the breathing space, he had just gained from the Gauls, to do so.

- Pompey, - she thought, eyes narrowing, - he could be an ally for us in this. He's not going to like Caesar gaining the upper hand once more. The trouble is, will he view it in his best interests to see Gabrielle and me free ... or dead! -

The thought thundered around her mind as she tried to plan ahead. She had no illusions about escaping from Caesar at this juncture, the dangers for her friend's were too great. But once they were brought together again in Rome. Well then the game changed once more and she needed to be ready for it.

She was brought abruptly from her thoughts as Caesar returned quietly to the 'room'. She could sense him almost, but not quite, in the way that she could sense the presence of Ares. The God made her flesh tingle and crawl. The Roman just made it crawl. She raised her head to glare at him.

He smiled, - Well why not, - he thought happily, - so far she has brought me everything I have sought from her. Now, however, it's time to start training her. I want her brought to heel. I want her to know and acknowledge me as master. - His smile broadened at the prospect, - This is not going to be a short campaign, but by the Gods, it will prove entertaining ... for me at least! -

Caesar signalled a guard who quickly moved forward and removed the gag, "Well, now Xena," he almost purred with contentment, "as I promised, things are now going to change for you. I think that you've been lounging around in that wagon for quite long enough. A warrior like you needs exercise to keep all your skills in place ... and you're going to need those skills, my slave, if you want to keep yourself and that little bard alive ... not to mention your other friends."

Xena's lack of response nettled him, but he knew her well enough to understand that she wouldn't respond until he pressed the right buttons in the correct sequence, "As I no longer need to keep you or your identity hidden from prying Gaulish eyes, we'll have you marching with your guards, from now on. Oh yes," he added, "I think we'll have some sparring between you and my men."

He saw her eyes light up with a feral gleam. He patted her gently, and contemptuously on the cheek, "Tut, tut, Xena. I'm hardly going to let you completely loose for that, am I now? We'll work something out to give you a challenge, while keeping you quite safe at the same time."

He sniffed, pointedly, "In the meantime, I think it's long past your bath time. I won't have a possession of mine at less than it's best, Xena, so I think that a trip to the river is in order for you before we set off today."

The Warrior Princess held back the urge to bite his hand, the hand that, she noted showed the small white scar left from the split javelin in Britannia. She chuckled inwardly. - He may have left marks on me, - she thought grimly, - but he hasn't escaped either. - She observed with pleasure the scar that ran across his right cheek, - Just like Draco's, - she grinned to herself. - Mmmm, perhaps I should patent that, make it my trade mark. - Her lips almost quirked into the private half smile of hers, but she crushed it before it could make it to the outside.

Caesar grabbed a handful of her usually luxuriant raven hair, now dirty and caked with blood, and pulled her head up sharply, disturbing her private thoughts once more, "I'm going to break you, Xena," he told her with calm assurance, "By the time I'm finished with you, you're going to be as meek as a lamb, unless I tell you to be otherwise."

Her answering smile held no humour as she replied to him in a low menacing tone that was heard clearly by everyone within the area, "Dream on, Julius."

She expected the blows that her retort had purchased and had steeled herself against them to make no sound as they thudded home. Nothing hard enough to break a bone, but on muscles and skin that were already strained, damaged and sore, the effect was not negligible.

"Enough," growled Caesar at length, "Get her down to the river and get her washed off. I want to move out of here in short order. Having given his orders he swung out into the main pavilion, and left the guards to unlock her from the posts and the stake that held her collar.

- Oh Gods! - her mind screamed as she tried to straighten her back, - that hurts! - Focusing her mind to compartmentalize the pain she was feeling, she kept her face a blank mask as she tried to encourage her tortured muscles to co-operate.

She stood immobile as a second long chain was fitted to her collar, with one leash holder to walk in front of her and the second behind. The chains on the wooden beam that imprisoned her arms were held by two more of the guards, while the chains used to hold her legs to the posts were taken by a final pair. Once again, she had her six personal watchdogs and the control they exerted over her was not much less than when she had been stuck in the cage.

- Can't expect him to get sloppy, now, can we? - she snarled to herself. - My reputation is really doing me no good on this trip, - she brooded.

The legionaries moved out down towards the river that her sharp ears had located when she had been unloaded from the wagon the previous evening. She saw Patroclese waiting with Flaccus under the welcome shade of an oak tree. She stumbled towards them under the constriction and weight of the shackles, guided by her guards.

"Xena," greeted Patroclese with a smile that faded as he saw the streak of blood that trailed down the side of her face. He shook his head with genuine sorrow that he had been responsible, in his part, for so much of the pain that the Warrior Princess had to endure, "Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes," he said in a tone that so reminded her of Gabrielle that a spontaneous laugh escaped her before she could contain it.

Not only Patroclese, but Flaccus and the soldiers looked at her with shocked incredulity. The laugh had been so clear and vibrant and was totally out of keeping with the dour, stoic warrior that they had become used to. She almost laughed again at the looks on their faces, but constrained herself and answered the looks with a roguish grin that totally confused them, especially when she added, "Not even my Mother could teach me to do that."

She looked at the lazy, deep running river and asked, "So, gentlemen. How have you got this little escapade planned out, huh?"

"Xena, will you give your word not to attempt to escape, and not to resist being re-shackled, if we let you out of your chains?" Patroclese asked.

Xena noticed that Flaccus looked uncomfortable about even suggesting that she be trusted to honour her oath. He remembered all too well how difficult it had been to catch her in the first place. Patroclese hadn't been there, so he had no real idea just how very dangerous the woman was.

She thought about giving the promise. It would undoubtedly have made things easier, but that was the problem. The easier she made things for herself, and the 'enemy', the closer she came to accepting their rules, their views and their orders. Her stubbornness reared up at giving that tiny inch. Once she started down the slippery slope she was lost and might just as well surrender to Caesar right here and now.

Xena shook her head, both in refusal to make the pledge and to give up the private war that she was waging with her old enemy. He'd have to fight her every step of the way, because there was no way on the Gods' earth that she'd ever give in to his decrees and demands, "No, I'll make no such promise, Patroclese," she told him evenly.

The healer shook his head in resignation, He could see the stubborn set of the Warrior Princess's jaw, and he knew full well that it would be easier to move a mountain than get her to reconsider her choice, "Very well, Xena, we'll do this the hard way."

Flaccus took over, "Get that beam out," he ordered his men, who complied with speed, releasing Xena's trapped arms so that she could at least move them for the short distance allowed by her manacles. It was a wonderful release and she revelled in her limited freedom.

"Okay," she asked, "what next?"

"Listen very carefully, slave," rasped Flaccus in his gruff, no-nonsense, voice, "I'm going to take the belt and manacles off of you. The collar chains, the leg irons and the leg chains stay on while you're in the river." He made a gesture and twenty archers, strategically placed around the bathing place moved into view, "You so much as look as if you're going to cause me any trouble and they've got orders to shoot. Don't worry, they're blunted arrows but they'll have enough impact to bring you down. Got it?"

"Oh, I think I can follow that," Xena replied coldly, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Don't push your luck with me, slave," Flaccus growled. "I don't know what happened with Blasius, back at Lugdunum, but I'm certain you had something to do with it. The man was a bullying brute, but he was one of mine and I don't appreciate slaves who retaliate against given authority. So just you keep in line and keep your smart mouth to yourself, understand?"

Xena nodded her comprehension. She really had no desire to force a confrontation and start a feud with Flaccus. She was aware that she was pressing his slender patience, and knew that it was her anger at Caesar that was making her act so provocatively with the Senior Centurion.

Flaccus gave her a hard glare which she held without dropping her eyes. She might not wish to deliberately provoke the soldier, but she was not going to be cowed by anyone here. Luckily he took her silence as sufficient conformity. "Healer," he instructed, waving Patroclese forward, "you know what to do."

As the physician stepped forward with a small sharp knife, Xena's mind suddenly screamed, - The toothpick! - If Patroclese cut the shirt off of her, he was almost certain to find the small piece of metal and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

The healer stepped behind her and she tensed as she waited for him to slit the material up the back of the shirt. He first undid the belt that secured the shackles to her waist, before making a slit in the dirt and blood smeared rag that she was wearing. Taking a firm grip with both hands, he pulled the shirt apart, up to the collar where he used the knife to slice through the thicker material.

She knew he'd found the toothpick. She felt his hands hesitate for a moment. But instead of declaring his discovery, he continue with his task of cutting the cloth away. When she was naked from the waist up, he slid the knife down the outside seams of the her trousers and asked her to step away from them, at which point Flaccus removed the manacles and motioned her into the water.

Xena wasn't worried about being stripped in front of her guards; after all, they'd already seen her without clothing in Nemausus, and nudity had never been something to cause her concern. She had a fine body and had used it to her advantage against men on more than one occasion. What did concern her, however, was what Patroclese intended to do about that toothpick!

She settled down into the cold river and caught the bar of soap that the healer threw to her. She began to methodically clean the grime from her hair and body, as she tried to make up her mind how Patroclese would chose to act and the possible consequences of that choice. If he informed Flaccus and Caesar, she would undoubtedly be the recipient of some harsh punishment. Another whipping seemed the most likely bet, and she could handle it, but that could also mean a similar punishment for Gabrielle which she didn't think she could endure.

If Caesar thought about it, he'd realise that Gabrielle must have known about the toothpick. It was a logical step from the fact that the only time she would have been in a position to gain possession of the implement was that first night in Caesar's tent, which meant that they must work out that Gabrielle had helped her to keep it hidden during her illness. It presented Caesar with the perfect opportunity to really discipline them both, knowing that it would hurt Xena all the more.

Her face took on a grim cast, and the soldiers surrounding her began to feel the tension that was emanating from the woman they were set to guard. If Xena were aware of their nervousness, she didn't show it. She had far more difficult concerns to occupy her mind.

Finishing with the soap, she threw it back out to the healer and ducked herself under the water to remove any remaining residue that clung to her. For all her immediate worries, she did allow the stray thought to register that it was good to be clean once more.

"C'mon, slave," barked Flaccus, "get out of there. We're not going to stand around while you take your ease."

Xena rose from the water like a goddess from the depths and made a slow stately progress back to the bank where she was thrown a rough towel which she used to dry off her long, lean body, "What now?" she asked as she threw the towel back to the healer.

A fresh, blue shirt was brought to her by Patroclese who helped her put it on, threading the collar chains through the neck, first one then the other. As the shirt settled onto her shoulders, she made eye contact with the healer who shook his head slightly before looking away.

Flaccus brought the belt and manacles back and Xena offered no resistance as the leather was fastened back around her waist, and she held her hands up for him to snap the cuffs back around her wrists. "We'll take the leg irons and chains off, while you put a fresh pair of trousers back on," Flaccus told her flatly, "Don't give me any trouble."

She nodded her agreement once more, far more concerned with working out just what Patroclese had meant by that small shake of his head. - Is it just possible that he won't say anything? - she silently asked herself. She knew that the healer felt guilty over his part in tricking both her and Gabrielle, but had that guilt so shook his loyalty to Caesar that she might just have gained an ally in the enemy's camp?

She allowed Patroclese to help her into the pair of brown leather trousers that he produced, "They'll take more wear and tear," he explained to her questioning look. Then he gave her her boots, "You can't march back to Lugdunum in bare feet. Lord Caesar wants you in fighting condition when we get back to Roman territory, and you'll hardly be that if your feet have been ripped to shreds, now will you?"

He had to help her put those on too. There was no way her chained hands could have managed the job on their own. Once she was settled into her footwear, which felt strange after going barefoot for so long, Flaccus motioned a soldier forward with a new pair of leg irons. The chain between the cuffs was longer, obviously to allow her to keep up with the marching soldiers. The long chains to her ankles were replaced, as was the beam through the crooks of her elbows and across her back. Once again Xena flexed her muscles against the thick wood to see if she could make any impression on it, and was disappointed by her failure.

Patroclese approached with a comb, "Let's see if we can get your hair into order. You look like some kind of barbarian at the moment."

"I thought that's what all Romans consider other peoples to be," she sniped tartly.

Patroclese ignored the comment, although Flaccus hit her hard across the arm with his vine staff, "You will learn to keep your smart mouth shut, slave," he warned, "Or by Jupiter, I'll have the hide off of you."

Fire burned in her eyes, but she held her peace, forcing her anger down, refusing to waste it on the Centurion. Caesar was her target, all the rest of his men were his tools. She could, and would, reserve her despite for her true enemy.

"Sit down, Xena," instructed Patroclese. Which she did with less difficulty that he'd expected. The longer leg irons allowed her the freedom to lower herself to the ground without the use of her hands.

The Warrior Princess watched as the rest of the Roman contingent, worked on breaking their camp. Patroclese's hands moved with a deft sureness as he teased out the vicious knots and tangles that had been allowed to accumulate in her hair. Finally, when he'd finished that, he quickly plaited two thin braids from her temples and secured them with twine at the back of her head, as he'd seen Gabrielle do on their way to join the Amazons.

"There," he said, "not as good as you or Gabrielle could have done, but better than it was."

"Thank you," she replied sincerely. It felt good to be clean and tidy once more. It made her feel more human and less like some animal.

"C'mon," Flaccus demanded, "It's time to get moving."

Xena stood as easily as she had sat and allowed the pace of the march to be dictated by the legionaries who held the securing chains. This was not going to be the most comfortable way to travel, but she thought it was preferable to the wagon and the cage.

Since they started out long after midday, they didn't journey too far, even with the long summer evening. Yet, after over a moon of almost total inactivity, Xena was grateful when they finally stopped to make camp. The heavy weight of the shackles and the wooden beam, coupled with her bruised and abused body, left her feeling totally drained. In particular, her calf muscles felt as though they were on fire from such a long period of little use.

She gratefully lowered herself to the ground when they stopped. The wooden tie across her back made things uncomfortable and she couldn't lie down as she would have liked, but it was a relief to get off her feet. - The bastard was right, - she thought moodily, - I am out of condition. -

Camp was quickly set up and tents were erected for the soldiers who weren't on guard duty, as well as for Caesar of course. The wafting smell of a stew reached her and she realised that she was hungry and thirsty. Patroclese had made sure that she was given water on the march, but she hadn't eaten all day.

She noted with interest the twin posts being set into the ground in the centre of the camp. She had little doubt that they had something to do with her, but she was willing to be patient and wait to see what Caesar had in mind, - Probably something to do with the sparring session he's got planned, - the thought drifted across her mind and a wild light hit her eyes. - If they put a sword in my hand, I'll damn well show them how to spar, - she thought grimly.

By the time that the posts were readied, Xena had recovered from the hardships of the days march. Her legs felt a little tight and stiff, but she'd been in worse condition and the thought of letting loose some of her pent up anger and frustration was a balm to her soul. It was with a wild eagerness that she looked forward to the chance to fight. She knew that she should suppress it, that her dark self drove and encouraged her wild exhilaration in combat, but she needed the thrill that testing herself, and pushing her abilities, gave her. In a way it was what she lived for. Only in battle did she truly come alive, her skills made her who she was.

- It isn't all of me, - she conceded to herself, - but if I'm ever to come to terms with myself, I have to recognise that it is an important part of my being. The wild dangerous part that's capable of perpetrating the great evils of my past, like Cirra, or the good deeds that Gabrielle has helped me to achieve. - It irked her, however, that by allowing the lust for combat to rise in anticipation within her, she was granting Caesar some small measure to dictate her life. - But, - she decided, - as long as I recognise that, and know that I'm doing this for my benefit and not his, then I'll go along with his little game. I'm going to have to be at peak fitness when it comes time to break out. -

It wasn't long before Flaccus came and ordered her to move over to the posts. The belt was released and replaced by a long thick chain that was wrapped around her waist and held in place behind her back by a stout padlock. The ends of the chain were then secured to the post.

- Clever,

- she admitted to herself as she tested the limits that the restriction was going to impose. She stood still as Flaccus removed all of the other fetters that loaded down her limbs, and removed the leashes from the collar. She revelled briefly in the relative freedom, stretching her muscles, making absolutely certain she could move well enough to fight, even testing the situation with a small tightly controlled backflip, bouncing immediately into its forward counterpart.

- Gods that felt good, - she could feel some of the tension draining out of her. Her body and psyche thrived on action and physical work. Being shut up and chained for long days had been a major contributing factor to the frustration that goaded her into baiting Caesar and, to a far lesser extent, causing her clashes with Flaccus. She shook her arms, loosening the tight muscles and waited to see just what they had in mind for practice.

Flaccus had detailed six big men for the sparring session. They'd stripped off their armour and discarded their weapons, Xena noted with disappointment. Caesar was obviously not going to trust her with a weapon in her hand in this situation. It was a pity, but unarmed combat could prove to be enjoyable. "Okay boys," the half smile played on her lips as the feral light shone from her deep blue eyes, "one at a time or altogether?"

Flaccus ordered the first man in. The soldiers, technically had the advantage being free to alter their angles of attack, while the Warrior Princess was limited by her bonds. Even so the first man was wary of her. He knew exactly how well she could fight. Moving to her left he attempted to come in at her making the most of the chain's restriction. He was met by a booted foot planted firmly in his gut that doubled him over to just the right height to meet the backhanded punch delivered with enough force to somersault him sideways to land with a crashing impact on the ground.

Xena growled in victory, her blood surging, pushing all thought from her mind of everything but the combat. She revelled in the surge of power that she felt and stood ready to take on the next opponent, or opponents as it turned out. Flaccus sent the next two men forward.

- More of a challenge this time, - she thought with satisfaction, - They're gonna come at me from either side. Good thinking, - she acknowledged to herself, - but really far too predictable. -

She readied herself for the concerted lunge she knew that they would make, and as soon as they came into range she leapt into the air, kicking out with both feet and getting solid connections under their chins, putting them out of the game.

As she made the leap, she realised she had put in too much power, feeling the chain tighten at her waist and pull her back to the ground, where she landed a little heavily. Yet it was a certain feeling, that she had identified at the apex of the leap, that suddenly quickened her thoughts. She had felt the chain give!

With no time to dwell on the thought, the final three men were waved into the fray. Working as a team, they took their time in trying to get themselves into a position where they could at least get in a blow against their formidable opponent.

Xena didn't wait for them to get their chance. She lunged against the restraint of the chain, getting herself close enough to the soldier in the middle to deck him with a solid blow to the nose, feeling the cartilage and bone shatter under the force of the blow. She also registered that the links of the chain were definitely beginning to give.

She skipped aside from the punch aimed by the man on the left, and rode out the worst from the one on the right who caught her on the shoulder, but with little force. Screaming her fabled battlecry, "Ay,yi,yi,yi,yi,yi!" she leapt high off the ground into a tucked backflip that produced enough momentum to snap her free from the chain at her waist and into enough clear space to give her the opportunity of glancing around quickly and see an opening that offered her the chance for escape.

Her mind on fire from battle, even of this minor nature, and wild with the thought of escape from Caesar, she sprinted for the opening taking out a soldier, who moved into her path, with a stunning head butt and relieving him of his sword in one fluid movement.

Two more men tried to block her passage of escape, and she cut them down with savage ease as all of the pent up anger and frustration she had been harbouring took control. She noted almost absently that the legionaries were beginning to swing into action, the initial shock of her breaking loose being overcome by discipline and the knowledge that their lives were at stake if she escaped them. A wild light danced in her eyes as she raced towards a group of twenty that had organised themselves ahead of her.

She didn't engage them. She just wanted to get past them, yelling out her warcry, she forward flipped over them and sprinted away just as fast as her long legs would carry her. In the exhilaration of her sudden freedom, she almost failed to register the pin pricks that hit her in the back and right arm.

As she continued to run, she picked at the slight pain on her arm and felt the small dart there, pulling it out. - Damn! - she thought. - I should have known that was too easy. The bastard's set me up. -

Pushing on hard, she could feel her body becoming sluggish as she continued to lope along, easily out distancing the pursuit. It took some time but slowly her mind became foggy and she began to stumble, - Need to find someplace to hide. Give this a chance to wear off before they can find me. -

She had tried to head towards where she guessed the town of Vershin to be. She hoped she'd be able to find a place to hide and later, maybe, after the drugs had worn off she planned to steal herself a horse. She knew that Caesar wasn't carrying messenger pigeons on this trip and that gave her hope that she might manage to beat his plans for Gabrielle by somehow reaching her first. - Even if I have to call on the gods for help! - she growled to herself. - They owe me! -

Shaking her head, she slowed her pace. Concentration was becoming increasingly difficult, control over her muscles was very limited. Everything was beginning to spin, and only her iron will and determination kept her going until she stumbled across a shallow depression in the ground that was partially filled with a bed of leaves, left there since the autumn fall. Knowing that she had no other viable choice, Xena collapsed into the dead foliage and forced her lethargic arms to cover herself with them as best she could. Aware that she could do no more, she finally gave into the demands of the drug and collapsed into unconsciousness.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"What do you mean you can't find her!" demanded Caesar angrily. "Did your men, or did they not, hit her with those darts."

"Yes General," affirmed Flaccus, "All four men swore that they got her."

Caesar scowled at Patroclese who shrugged and responded, "That amount of Curamin was enough to knock out a bull in its prime. You know, my Lord, what Xena's strength is like. I warned you that you were taking a risk."

"Yes, yes," snapped Caesar, "I can do without your 'I told you so's' Patroclese." He turned his glare back at Flaccus, "Widen the search area. She obviously got further than we anticipated." He thought of something and motioned Flaccus to remain a moment longer, "How long will that amount of the drug keep her unconscious?" he asked the healer.

"A normal man would be incapacitated for at least two full days," Patroclese responded promptly, "with Xena," he pursed his lips as he tried to assess an accurate estimate of the likely time, "between eight candlemarks and a full day. I can't be more precise than that."

Flaccus nodded his understanding and left Caesar's tent, bellowing out orders as he marched commandingly through the encampment, "Get me torches and the best trackers we've got. We'll search all night if we have to, but I want that slave re-captured and chained by first light or you'll all wish you'd never been born."

Caesar watched the search parties move out and slammed his right fist into his left palm. His idea had been good. Xena needed to experience the exhilaration of freedom, only to have it snatched away. If he was going to crush her will he had to use every trick available to him. Physical punishment was something she could stand up to very well. He needed to be able to break her inside. Wear down her resistance and replace it with total obedience. This had been one of the steps in the process. The crushing disappointment of failure, on its own, would hardly achieve his ends, but over a period of time, with other clever manipulations it should bear fruit.

- It still will, - he declared to himself, - if we can just get her back again. -

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Sunlight was just beginning to crest the surrounding hills as Flaccus and his men noticed the soft patch of blue cloth peeking through a pile of dead leaves. They had combed every inch of ground in a ten mile radius from the camp, and were just about to back track on themselves, thinking that they must have missed her .. because it was almost beyond belief that she could have come this far .. when the Senior Centurion had spotted that odd piece of blue material betraying the hidden escapee. Signalling his men, they surrounded the depression and one of them began to sweep aside the leaves, only to yelp in pain as a startlingly strong hand closed around his wrist and tightened mercilessly. The soldier scrambled back, pulling Xena from the bed of leaves as he did so. Her eyes were unfocused, she was groggy and disorientated, but an insistent voice, in the depths of her mind, told her that she had to fight or she would lose her freedom once more.

Flaccus had a ten man squad with him and he knew that they were in for a struggle. He brought his vine staff down hard on her knuckles, forcing her to release the soldier she had grabbed, and snapped, "Get her!"

The legionaries piled in on top of the Warrior Princess who had little chance of fighting off their combined weight. She still had very little control over her limbs and her mind was fuzzy and unresponsive. She did manage to get in a couple of solid punches and one really vicious kick to one man's groin, but then they had her pinned on the ground and Flaccus was locking the manacles back onto her wrists.

Gripped by an urgent frenzy she resumed her struggle, throwing off all but two of the soldiers with her wild thrashings, before they piled back on turning her face down, pushing her head into the damp dewy grass, while Flaccus took the opportunity to tightly secure the belt back around her waist. Two men lay across her legs as the irons were locked into place on her ankles, and a chain attached to her collar.

"Get her up," growled Flaccus as he surreptitiously rubbed his jaw. He'd been caught by one of her flying fists and it hurt like Hades. "Lets get her back to camp before she can cause any more trouble."

Xena had been hauled to her feet and then dragged back the ten miles to Caesar's camp, as she continued to fight the debilitating effects of the drug that had been used on her. Her mind screamed in anger at her failure to thwart Caesar's plan, yet a quiet corner stubbornly reminded her that if she had succeeded, she could have doomed her friends, and Gabrielle in particular.

Chapter Thirty Five: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Caesar's camp was still in an uproar, with the men tired and footsore from tramping through the countryside at night. Those that were back at the camp were in a foul mood, and there were many more parties still out scouring the countryside for the escapee. Messengers were dispatched to recall those who were to far away to hear the trumpets.

Xena was dumped down by one of the posts that had been used the evening before and her leash secured around it. Her mind was still hazy and her muscles felt heavy and unco-operative. She leaned back against the wood and rested, allowing herself to drift along with the drug induced relaxation she felt.

Patroclese soon appeared at her side. He checked her pulse, got her to open her eyes so he could check the progress of the Curamin and then encouraged her to drink from the waterskin he had brought with him. He guessed that she was probably hungry, but she wasn't really in any state to eat at that time, and he doubted there'd be any breakfast for anyone that morning as Caesar was impatient to be on his way. Having done what he could, the healer scurried off to inform his lord of his observations.

"So she's still under the effects of the drug, but she's struggling to fight it off," the Roman noble considered the information. "Is she able to walk?"

"If she gets some support from the guards for the next couple of candlemarks, it will probably help to disperse the effects of the Curamin anyway." answered Patroclese carefully.

"Very well. As soon as the last of the search parties return, we'll move out. I want to get back to the VIIth and on our way to Lugdunum as soon as possible." Caesar instructed.

"My Lord," began the healer carefully, "What punishment do you intend to impose upon the Warrior Princess?"

"Slave," corrected Caesar.

"My Lord?" questioned Patroclese, confused.

"Not Warrior Princess, nor Xena of Amphipolis, she is just the slave, Xena, property of Caesar." His eyes bored into his physician with a burning intensity, until Patroclese gave a slight nod that he understood. "As for punishment, well, beatings impress the men, and since she managed to severely injure at least three of the guard force, I think the least she deserves is ten lashes from Flaccus. Hardly enough to seriously debilitate her, with you to tend her injuries, but enough for fairness sake. However, I think that my slave gets too much rest and relaxation, so from now, until we return to Lugdunum, she gets no sleep. Lets see what a little exhaustion does for her resistance."

Patroclese bowed as he left the general's tent, and swore under his breath. He disliked this campaign to break the woman's spirit. Yet he was in no position to do anything about it. Xena was Caesar's property, and Caesar was virtual ruler of Rome.

The Warrior Princess remembered very little about the march to rejoin the VIIth legion. She was vaguely aware that the wooden beam was back to pin her arms, and that the additional chains had been re-attached for her guards to control her, but the actual march was lost in a haze of cloudy impressions that flitted through her detached consciousness.

They were back with the legion by midday, and the officers had been alerted to be ready to move out as soon as their commander rejoined them. By this time, Xena was shaking off the foggy feeling caused by the drug, and became aware of the interest being shown by the legionaries they now marched with.

She heard the questions asked of her guard maniple about her, and their answers. Most of the soldiers of the VIIth Legion, were frankly disbelieving when told about the danger this one woman warrior posed, but many of them knew members of the elite guard and knew that they were some of the best fighters selected from various units especially for this task. The result was that soon the men of the VIIth became as wary of the dangerous slave as the guard maniple were.

When they made camp for the evening, Caesar decided that Xena's punishment would do very well for entertaining his troops. A post was set up in a clear space within the camp and the Warrior Princess was hauled up, hands above her head once her leather belt was released. Patroclese eased the shirt up her back and over her head so that it left her flesh clear for the whip. "This slave attempted to run," Caesar announced, "In doing so she seriously injured three legionnaires. The punishment for this crime will be ten lashes laid on well by Senior Centurion Flaccus. I want you all to note that this slave is highly dangerous. She is also my personal property. I expect you all to guard against her getting free again. In the unlikely event that she should manage to do so, I want her taken alive for me to deal with as I see fit. Is this understood."

"YES SIR!" came the response from close to five thousand men. A full legion was something even Xena would think twice about before taking on alone.

"Carry on with the punishment, Senior Centurion," instructed Caesar.

The ten lashes were laid on hard, although to be honest, Xena had little difficulty in holding her silence against the pain. Flaccus had good control of the whip and he was able to lay the strokes in an even pattern that cut her back from shoulders to waist. The Warrior Princess had clenched her teeth and fists, closed her eyes and turned her thoughts far away from her present situation.

She had borne far worse treatment in her life. Her previous whipping at Flaccus's hands had been far more gruelling; her body had been in a pretty unhealthy condition at that time and there had been double the number of lashes to be endured. It hurt. But it wasn't unbearable and she was even able to smile condescendingly at her tormentor, making his brown eyes flicker with annoyance and anger.

The men were dismissed and Patroclese stepped up to attend the deep cuts in her back. She winced more when the vinegar was applied to clean the wounds than when they were being inflicted upon her. The salve that the healer then used made her draw a sharp intake of breath as it stung like fire, but gradually it produced a numbing sensation that allowed her to relax somewhat.

"Thanks," she said softly as she leaned her forehead against the post in relief that that particular ordeal was over. As the healer packed his equipment away, she asked, "Any idea what he has in mind for me next?"

Patroclese looked at her with troubled eyes. She couldn't see his face but she could feel his tension and uncertainty, "He wants to break you, Xena. He sees you as a challenge, and I think he needs challenges in his life."

"Did you tell him?" she asked very quietly.

"No," said the healer after a pause, "and I won't. You are suffering enough without my adding to your burden ... or Gabrielle's." he added almost too softly to hear.

"What does he intend doing with her?" questioned Xena, more than a touch of anxiety in her voice.

"You know he'll use her against you," Patroclese told her. He stood and worked the shirt back over her head and eased it over the tender flesh of her back. "Once he gets you back together he'll make certain that you see her beaten and humiliated. He thinks it will help break your will to resist him, and he's probably right. I know how much you care for Gabrielle."

"Patroclese," she said low and urgently, "I know you're a good man. You've got to help get Gabrielle away from him. I'll take whatever I've got coming. My past misdeeds have earned me no less, and probably much more, but she shouldn't have to suffer for my sins."

"I can't," the healer said unsteadily, "I can't."

"Please," whispered the Warrior Princess in desperation.

"I'm sorry," returned Patroclese quietly. "Look I'll get you something to eat. I know you haven't eaten for two days, and I don't want a repeat of what happened last time." He saw the mute plea in her incredible blue eyes and shook his head, "I'm sorry, I can't," he repeated before picking up his medical kit and heading off to the cook's tent to get some stew.

Xena closed her eyes to hide the desperation she couldn't crush. Caring for others was a liability to her, but Gabrielle's friendship and trust had given her so much and the little bard had inevitably found her way through the walls and defences that she had erected around her heart. If Hercules had been the one to discover she still had a heart, it was the gentle kindness and honest friendship of Gabrielle that had slowly returned it to life.

She grunted with surprise and pain as one of her usual guards jabbed her sharply in the ribs with his baton, "Keep your eyes open wench. There's to be no sleep for you this night." He and his mates laughed unpleasantly. None of them had gotten any sleep the previous night and they felt far from kindly towards her for her part in that.

Patroclese came back with a large bowl of stew and a thick wedge of bread, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to feed you," he apologised. "Orders are you remain there for the night."

She sighed in resignation and ate mechanically as Patroclese spooned the stew, and held the bread for her to take bites from. When she'd finished the meal, he held up a mug for her to take a drink from, "Wine?" she questioned in surprise.

"I figured you could probably do with something a bit stronger than water," he answered with a clipped smile, "Make the most of it," he advised and offered up the cup for another longer swallow, allowing her to drink at her own pace until it the cup was drained.

"Thanks, I needed that," she agreed.

"Try not to aggravate your guards," he advised, "I'd rather not get up in the morning and find another collection of wounds that need treating."

Xena felt the underlying humour of that and graced him with one of her quirky half smiles, "As if I'd do that," she told him.

"Ha!" was his reply as he took the cup and bowl back to the mess tent. "I'll check on your back in the morning and bring you some breakfast."

The camp settled down as the light faded from the sky and darkness descended over the long rows of tents. The only illumination in the camp was made by the four large fires set around the post that Xena was chained to, brightly lighting the area to give the guards a clear view of her at all times. Every time, her eyes threatened to drift closed, she felt the sharp jab from the end of a baton.

Lack of sleep was something she was used to coping with. She hadn't slept well for many years and rarely went an entire night without spending some hours sleepless. She had, on occasion, gone as long as three days without any sleep at all, so remaining awake that night was no particular hardship.

The following morning, Patroclese had returned and plastered more salve over her cuts, before feeding her the standard meat porridge for breakfast. She ate it to keep up her strength. She'd promised Gabrielle and she tried to keep the promises she made, especially to her bardic friend.

**********

The day had been harsh. Once they replaced that beam across her back, the pain from the whip cuts had intensified ten fold and had her biting her lip to keep from groaning at the agony it induced. She could feel the seeping blood as it leaked from the abrasions, soaked into her shirt and slid in little runnels down her back, pooling around the tight leather belt at her waist.

During the stop for lunch, Patroclese returned and had the wooden restraint removed while he cleaned her wounds once more and plastered more of the salve over them. They both knew that by the evening stop that the heavy wood would have rubbed the abrasions raw, but it was a price that she was forced to pay for her intractable stubbornness. While she resisted Caesar he would take every precaution to limit her capacity for either escape or violent retaliation to his 'games'.

That evening they had camped in a clearing around a huge oak tree and Xena had been chained, by her collar leashes, to a convenient branch about three foot above her head. Held in that way she couldn't sit, being forced to stand upright or choke against the collar. Her arms were released from the imprisonment of the length of wood, and Patroclese did his work in clearing up the lash wounds, paying particular attention to the ones chafed by the beam.

"Most of these are healing pretty well," he told her as he worked. "The cuts above and below where that spar rests are already closed and they won't need any more treatment after tomorrow. But those four in the middle of your back, they're going to cause us problems."

"I'll manage," she gritted out as he dabbed at the wounds with his astringent and then covered them in salve.

"Xena," he hissed pleadingly, "can't you just give in. If not for your own sake, then for Gabrielle's?"

His plea was met with a clenched jaw and an icy stare. He knew that he was wasting his efforts in trying to talk her into accepting Caesar's mastery and he began to understand that it wouldn't just break her, it would destroy her to give Caesar best in this.

- I think I have the misfortune to be caught between two of history's most indomitable wills, - he thought sadly. - Neither will be satisfied until they have achieved victory over the other. The question is, what will be the cost to them, and those around them? - Patroclese fed her once more and made sure that she had plenty of water to drink before retiring for the night.

Her time was spent uncomfortably awake. Her legs were tired and aching and sleep was denied her, firstly by the way she had been secured, and secondly by the constant prodding she received in the ribs if her eyes drifted shut. Despite being deprived of sleep, she was still alert and would remain so for some time yet, although she recognised Caesar's current game and knew that she would eventually succumb to exhaustion.

**********

The next few days followed the same pattern as they made their way back to Lugdunum. By the fourth day of the march, Xena began to feel the effects of her enforced wakefulness as she frequently stumbled, and on one occasion fell heavily, scraping her face badly on the rough road as she was unable to break her fall.

The final day's march back to the city was a nightmare as she tried to focus her wandering attention on putting one foot in front of the other. she stumbled frequently and took three more serious falls that left her with a swollen and sprained left wrist, a painfully scraped jaw and a black eye where she had caught her face on a large stone.

She felt a painful gratitude when she was finally locked up into her familiar cell in Lugdunum's garrison barracks, and a sense of relief that they were actually going to let her sleep for a while. Free of the wooden beam, she slumped into the straw at the back of the cell and closed her eyes. She knew that she should fight the feelings that she was experiencing; gratitude and relief were emotions on that slippery slope that Caesar was trying to force her down. He was using tried and trusted techniques to break her will. She knew. She recognised them. She'd used them in her dark past. And she was beginning to believe that she was no more proof against them than any other tormented soul was.

Within seconds of laying down she fell into a heavy, deep slumber. Something on the distant edges of her mind tried to warn her that it wasn't a good idea, but exhaustion had a firm hold of her and she fell heavily into Morpheus' realm, opening herself to all the horrors that she had buried deeply from herself.

"Xena .... Xeeenaaa!" she recognised the deceptively mild and silky tones immediately, "So
you've come to play with me again at long last. I've missed you so, Xena."
She turned slowly to face the woman she hated, pitied, felt responsible for, and felt the
familiar gut churning rage as she looked at the petite blonde goddess, madwoman, who had
helped murder her son.
"Have you missed me, Xena?" she asked with that oh, so innocent smile. "It's been a while
hasn't it? What have you been doing with yourself?" she asked inspecting the very physical
signs of abuse that the Warrior Princess carried.
"What do you want, Callisto?" Xena demanded in a low menacing growl.
"Only to visit with an old friend," the blonde smiled pleasantly before her brown eyes
hardened into chips of stone and her face changed into a rage filled snarl, "Only to see how
you like being treated as one of the downtrodden."
The Warrior Princess stood motionless as her enemy circled her, gently touching the cuts
and bruises that showed on Xena's long, lean body. "He's doing a pretty good job, isn't
he?" Callisto whispered softly close to her ear, "He really knows how to take care of you,
my sweet. I'm not sure that I really like that, you know." she continued with a petulant twist
to her mouth, "You're mine, Xena, and I don't think I want him playing with you."
"Why don'tcha take it up with him, then?" the Warrior Princess snarled, "Oh, sorry, guess
you can't at that, can ya!"
Callisto turned rage filled eyes on her nemesis, "You really shouldn't try to taunt me that
way, my sweet," she snarled, as she pointed a finger at Xena, sending a bolt of power at the
Warrior Princess that slammed her back against a boulder that appeared out of nothing,
trapping her there with strong hands reaching out from within it to hold her immobile.
"Tut, tut, Xena, you really shouldn't make me angry, because I can really hurt you here."
She stepped up close and the dark warrior tensed herself for the vicious backhanded blow
that cracked into her jaw.
"Callisto, I've been hit harder by Joxer and children," snarled back the Warrior Princess
as she strained to break free of the restraints that the mad goddess had set.
"Ah, no, no, no, no," chided the blonde softly, I've waited too long for this for you to make
me end it quickly." She looked deep into Xena's eyes, an insane light flickered and sparked
there, "Speaking of children, I'm sure that you'd like to see your child again."
"Callisto, no!" anger, pain and outrage sounded in the warrior's voice, "Your quarrel is
with me. Leave him out of it."
"What, and miss a touching mother and child reunion?" asked the blonde cocking her head
slightly to one side and tapping her jaw thoughtfully, "I think not."
She snapped her fingers and a young boy appeared at her side. Solan ran to Callisto and
hugged her fondly, before turning his bright blue eyes on Xena, a look filled with hatred and
condemnation filled his bright innocent face, "Solan and I have become quite good friends,"
Callisto tormented maliciously, "He understands now what a cruel, heartless bitch you
really are, Xena. Aren't you pleased to know that he recognises you for what you are?"
"Solan?" she whispered, an aching loss in her voice.
"Tell your mother about all the innocent people you've met, who knew her just briefly ...
before she slaughtered them!" sneered Callisto with relish. "Tell her how you've cursed her
very name and the blood connection that you have with her."
"I hate you!" the boy snarled with pent up emotion shaking his frame, "You're a cold
blooded murderer. You've destroyed more lives than you'll ever be able to make amends for.
Your very hands run red with the blood of the innocent."
Grief stricken, Xena glanced at her hands and saw the crimson stains that proclaimed his
words as truth, "Solan, I ..." she didn't know what to say, she had no defence. His words
were true and the faces of the dead haunted her once again.
She shook her head trying to clear the images from her mind. This was a dream. Her dream,
she could control it ... she could ...
"Solan," said Callisto mildly, "you can end your Mother's reign of destruction," she
snapped her fingers and the sword of Borias appeared in her hands. "Take your father's
sword and run it through her black heart."
Xena watched horrified as Solan, her innocent, gentle, son, took the sword and advanced
towards her while Callisto's insane cackle echoed and crashed in resounding waves, "Solan
don't!" she pleaded. Not for herself, the god's knew that she had earned her death and
place in Tartarus a thousand times over, but because of the damage that the act would do to
her son - his loss of blood innocence, the crime of matricide, the guilt of murder.
He placed a small hand on her stomach and lifted the sword to aim for her heart,
"SOLAN, NO!"
she screamed again, jerking her arms free of the restraints and knocking his hand and
sword away ...

She rose up from the straw like a demon from the ashes, ripping her chained hands loose from the leather belt and striking away the guard's hand and the baton he'd prodded her with, "SOLAN!" she screamed, not recognising the faces of the men who surrounded her, she lashed out in a frenzy of unleashed strength.

Ignoring the restriction of the chains she smashed double fisted punches into any part of her tormentor's anatomy that came into reach. Four men were quickly down and disabled. Two had broken jaws, one was curled into a fetal ball clutching his groin and making small whimpering noises. The fourth had been flung into the stone wall of the cell with such force, he'd collapsed in a boneless heap.

Her awareness didn't register the sudden activity outside in the guard room, her manic induced rage had her gripped in a frenzy that forced her to lash out in her anguish and pain. She brought her manacled hands around in a two handed gut punch that doubled her next victim over, then delivered a stunning blow to the back of his exposed head, the sixth member of the guard who had entered her cell was incautious enough to drift within her reach. She wrapped her chains around his neck and began to draw the chain tight, squeezing the life out of him with the increasing pressure.

A flood of men hit her like a tidal wave as they crashed through the cell door as soon as it swung open. She was borne to the ground along with the man she continued to strangle, under the piled bodies of twenty guards. She thrashed and heaved and bucked in wild abandonment as she threw all her strength, all her might, into fighting off the faceless men who had invaded her dreams and sought to bring her down.

With a burst of unbelievable, violent, power, she threw her attackers off as if they were made of straw, struggling to stand before they piled themselves upon her again and bore her down to the ground, "Somebody bring some chains in here," yelled a decurion, as they struggled to contain the thrashing madwoman.

Within moments, two guards scurried into the cell. It was difficult, but they managed to get the thick chain attached to her collar and another wrapped around her arms and body and a third wrapped and locked around her legs, "Okay, now lock that leash to that ring in the wall and get everybody out of here," ordered the decurion, breathing hard. As soon as the chain was locked in place, the soldiers released the Warrior Princess, who continued to strain and jerk against the restraints that held her, before collecting their fallen comrades and clearing out of the cell, making sure that the door was locked firmly behind them.

The young decurion, Junius, looked in at the tormented slave, "Quintus, see if you can find the healer, Patroclese," he ordered, "Marcellus, round up Cornelius and see what he can do for our injured."

- Damn, - Junius thought moodily, - Why did this have to happen when the senior officers are all with the commander, - he watched in concern as the woman's frenetic struggles gradually subsided and she drew herself into as much of a curled ball as she could manage. Junius saw her big frame begin to shake and he thought that maybe she was crying.

He stood observing the slave and wondered what had caused such a violent outburst. He was lost in reverie as a hand touched his arm and the healer's voice asked, "What happened here?"

"Damned if I know," answered Junius running a hand through his hair in frustration. "When we put her in there, she collapsed on that straw and fell almost instantly asleep as we'd been told to expect. A little while ago she started thrashing around and then began shouting out ... no screaming out a word over and over."

"What word?" demanded Patroclese intently.

"Solan, I think" he glanced at some of his men to get confirmation, "Yeah, that was it, Solan, over and over. I sent the six in there to wake her up, but when Cadmius touched her she just seemed to spring at him totally wild like," he shook his head in disbelief at how quickly and easily she had overcome six strong men, "I got a look in her eyes, an' I'm tellin' you, there weren't no one home. It was really scary."

Patroclese listened carefully, all the while watching Xena as her body shook as it lay in the straw. - Solan was her son, - he knew. He remembered from the Amazon trial. "You say she fell into a deep sleep?" he questioned again. "Yeah, must have been that exhaustion, you know, 'cause in all the time we've had her, I've never see her take more than a light doze." answered Junius.

"Alright, open the door and let me in there," Patroclese told him.

"You gotta be kidding," the decurion answered incredulously. "It took twenty of us just to hold her down and get her wrapped in those chains, and she nearly shook us all off, even then."

"It'll be alright," promised Patroclese, "She seems to be over the worst of it. I'll take the responsibility."

"Well," Junius said uncertainly, and hesitated over unlocking the door.

"I'll be fine decurion. But if you're really worried, have a double squad stand by," Patroclese suggested.

Still troubled, Junius opened the cell door and allowed the healer in before swinging it quickly shut and locking it. Patroclese stood inside and paused as he took a deep breath. He was likely to be in trouble if the Warrior Princess hadn't regained her senses, but he felt fairly confident that whatever madness had gripped her had run it's course.

He approached her carefully, talking softly so he didn't come on her by surprise. He saw her stiffen, and work to control the silent wracking sobs that had been shaking her, as he came closer, "It's alright, Xena," he told her soothingly, "everything's going to be fine." He knelt cautiously beside her and slowly reached out a hand towards her, stopping as she jerked away, "C'mon, Xena," he almost crooned, "it's only me, I'm not going to hurt you."

Once again he reached towards her, noticing the involuntary flinch her body gave as he gently brushed the curtain of hair away from her eyes and revealed a window into a soul damned to be tortured for eternity. He almost cried out at the anguish and suffering that he saw there, before the heavy shutters came up and the icy blue gaze he was familiar with returned. Moving carefully, he helped her to sit up, noting that the chains, the guards had used to stop her thrashing, had dug deeply into her flesh and that her neck had been badly chafed by fighting against the restraint of the collar, "What, in the name of the God's, have you been doing to yourself?" he said softly.

She didn't reply, and he could see a slightly wild, hunted, look in the corner of her eyes. He examined her quickly, but carefully, helped by his accumulated knowledge of the woman's body gained through hours of patching up the damage inflicted upon it, "Nothing too serious," he smiled reassuringly, still keeping his tone soft. "A few more bruises and scrapes, nothing that a little salve won't fix up." He noted the broken leather belt restraint, - Gods, but she must have exerted some strength to break that, - he thought.

He watched her carefully as she drew in a long shuddering breath, "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, - How can I possibly tell him about Callisto and what she was doing with my son? - she thought miserably. - How can I explain about the blood on my hands and the guilt that overwhelms me every time I sleep? - "No, Patroclese. I don't want to tell you," she said in a rasping voice that mocked her normally silky tones, "and you wouldn't really want to know."

"If I get those chains off of you, are you going to do something stupid?" he asked with a smile, knowing that whatever demons the dreams had raised were once more firmly locked up tight in her soul.

A bare quirk around her lips answered him, "No, I'm fine now," she told him quietly.

Patroclese stood and went back to Junius, "Give me the keys to the padlocks on those chains," he instructed, "I want them off of her before they do any more damage."

"Are you sure, healer?" questioned the young decurion, "I mean, if she's going to have another one of those fits, I'd as soon keep her under those restraints."

"It wasn't a fit," assured Patroclese, "Just a bad dream."

"Just a dream? I'd hate to be around her if she had a nightmare! Who's this Solan she was screaming about?"

"Her son," answered the healer shortly holding his hands out for the keys.

"She's got a son?" questioned the young officer as he handed over two of the four keys he held.

"Had a son. He was murdered by someone trying to hurt her," he told his fellow Roman grimly, "The boy was very young and didn't even know who his mother was. From what I understand, her guilt drove her to the brink of madness." He looked at the two keys and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You can unlock the ones from her legs and body, but the collar one stays in place, I won't put men more at risk than necessary," Junius told him.

"Fair enough," agreed Patroclese, "She's broken the belt, so you better send to the armoury for another one."

"Already done," assured the decurion.

"By the way, how much sleep did she get?"

"About four candlemarks, no more."

Patroclese crossed the cell once more and tried the first of the keys in the padlock that held the chain tight around Xena's legs, when it didn't fit he tried the second one and nodded to himself as the lock snapped open. He carefully unwrapped the heavy chain and discarded it behind him. Turning his attention to the one around her body, he made short work of the lock and quickly disposed of the chain.

Xena carefully flexed her muscles, using her relative freedom from the belt restraint to rub some life back into her numb arms, "Thanks," she said.

"Hold still while I get that belt off you," Patroclese instructed, as he deftly unbuckled the leather belt and examined the metal ring on the front that she had ripped apart, "That took some strength," he said carefully and saw her shrug unhappily.

"It's not always something that I can control," she admitted softly.

"Let me get something on that neck, and then I want to look at your back," he explained as he dug the salve he required from his medical bag.

"Take your time," she told him, "I'm not going anywhere."

- A pale attempt at humour, but at least an attempt, - he thought to himself as he gave her an encouraging smile.

He worked quickly and methodically, noting the dull aspect that had edged into her eyes, "You need to get some more sleep," he told her and saw the hunted look return before she took control.

She shook her head and replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Try," he insisted, "You need the rest." He saw the stubborn set to her jaw, and patted her arm sympathetically, "Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"I could use a little water," she admitted.

Patroclese went back to the door and spoke softly with Junius who headed into the guardroom to return a short while later with a large cup of water. Patroclese thanked him and took it back to Xena who drank the contents of the cup thirstily.

As she returned the cup to the healer, she tasted the tang of herbs in her mouth. Anger burning in her eyes, she grabbed the healer's coat and demanded, "What did you put in there?"

"Just something to help you sleep. You need the rest and those herbs should ensure that your slumber is dreamless." He watched as she struggled against the potent effects of the herbs, slowly falling back into the straw, her eyes closing as the powerful drugs overcame her resistance and joined forces with the exhaustion she was already struggling against.

Patroclese stood up and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long trip down to Massilia. Caesar intended to keep up his campaign to break down Xena's resistance so that by the time they got back to Rome she'd be more pliable and easier to handle. The healer doubted very much that it would ever happen.